


(Not Quite) Home for the Holidays

by sequence_fairy



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, and all the whos in whoville and etc.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: Shane’s not going home this year.He’d decided in early September that he wouldn’t be, that he didn’t want to deal with the hassle of travel and rushing through a parade of family gatherings. And he’s fine with it, he is.Not going home for Christmas? That's fine. Christmas will come home to you, instead.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 38
Kudos: 114
Collections: Skeptic Believer Book Club Advent Calendar





	(Not Quite) Home for the Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Bee for the original suggestion of a bunch of mini fics to run up to Christmas, Eva for the beta, and to the book club at large for their support, as always.
> 
> Mea culpa for the word count, Bee, I hope you'll forgive me.

The sky is clear and the sun is bright, and the weather promises to be much the same for the next several weeks. Shane sighs. It’s just not the same. He tries not to let it show, tries not to miss the snow too much, or complain too loudly about how hot it still is, even in late December. 

Southern California continues not to be cold enough for Christmas to feel like Christmas. 

People hang lights in palm trees and wear red and white and green sweaters to holiday parties, and bring plates of gingerbread cookies to weekday potlucks, but Shane still finds himself standing on the sidewalk outside of the office on Christmas Eve, wishing that the air felt a little less like desert heat and a little more like a north wind coming in off the lake. 

Shane’s not going home this year.

He’d decided in early September that he wouldn’t be, that he didn’t want to deal with the hassle of travel and rushing through a parade of family gatherings. And he’s fine with it, he is. It’s just that today, he’s thinking about how his mom would mull wine on the stove all afternoon on Christmas Eve. He’s thinking about how coming in from the cold to the scent of spices and warm wine all through the house is the kind of coming home feeling he can’t manage to replicate in his own apartment. 

He shakes himself and walks into the building. 

The ubiquitous plates of Christmas cookies sit on the counter that runs the length of the back wall of the office, accompanied by a jar of candy canes and the twinkle of a string of mini Christmas lights hung through the door pulls on the upper cabinet doors. Faint Christmas music wafts through the space, but it’s not the saccharine pop of Ryan’s playlist, so Shane thinks it might be one of Katie’s. 

Brittney’s been cutting printer paper into snowflakes, like Shane remembers doing in grade school, and has hung them in the windows, plastered them to the cupboard doors and stuck them to the fridge that’s snugged up against the end of the counter. It looks properly festive, and last week, Shane had thought it was lovely. This week, he misses the real thing and the paper ones seem tacky and fake. 

He slumps to his desk, dropping his bag with a sigh and then dropping himself into his chair. 

Ryan finds him there, having not moved except to shift into a more comfortable slouch, twenty minutes later. 

“Dude,” Ryan says, giving Shane a long once over. 

“Good morning to you, too,” Shane says, heaving himself up to better posture. He leans forward to flip his monitor on and then reaches down to pull his laptop out and attach it to the dock with a click. 

Ryan settles beside him, pulling things out of his own bag and getting himself sorted for the day.

The morning ticks by, and Shane’s bad mood burrows ever-deeper into his sinews. 

-:-

By lunch, Ryan’s dragging Shane out of the office, refusing to allow him to choose to say no to having lunch together. Shane stews the whole walk down the block to the sandwich place that’s close enough and fast enough that ordering their lunch won’t cut too much into whatever conversation Ryan has planned. Shane’s sure he’s going to get an earful. He hopes Ryan will wait until he’s finished his lunch. 

Shane’s hopes are dashed, however, because Ryan starts as soon as they get into line. 

“So what’s got your panties in a knot today?” he asks, when they’re four people back from the counter. 

Shane shrugs. They shuffle forward with the line.

“You’re in a shitty mood,” Ryan observes. He gives Shane a moment to say something and when it’s clear that Shane isn’t going to, he continues; “What’s going on, dude?” 

Shane’s saved from answering by having to order himself lunch. Ryan lets the conversation drop until they’re outside, claiming a picnic table a little ways away from the other patrons.

“Is it something at home? Something at work?” Ryan asks. Shane unwraps his ham and cheese, pausing to lick mustard off his fingers. 

Shane sighs. “It’s nothing like that, Ry, I’m just—” 

“Just what?” 

Just tired of California. Just missing somewhere he hasn’t called home in almost ten years. Just wanting to go outside and feel the knifing cold in every breath instead of the scent of a city the size of LA baking under the heat of the sun. Just wanting to feel the crunch of real snow beneath his boots. Just wanting to wake up to a world gone soft, all the sound deadened under the weight of the snow that has fallen overnight. 

Shane rakes a hand through his hair, letting it flop forward onto his face. “Guess it’s just the Christmas blues,” is what he settles on. It’s both an answer and not, and Shane knows he’s being evasive but Ryan’s never lived more than an hour from the place he grew up, so it’s not like he’s ever had to choose not to celebrate a holiday with his parents, or had to learn how to celebrate it somewhere else.

Ryan’s brows furrow. 

“I’ll be fine,” Shane says, trying to forestall any concern from Ryan’s end. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Ryan hums and pulls his own sandwich apart, rearranging the meat and the lettuce. “You should come out to Arcadia tomorrow, my parents won’t mind.” 

“Oh. No, that’s—-that’s okay,” Shane says. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” 

“You wouldn’t be,” Ryan insists. 

Shane demurs again. Ryan’s family is lovely, and Shane knows, instinctively, that Steve and Linda would absolutely not mind, but he really doesn’t want to be the Christmas pity case. 

Ryan changes tack. “What are you doing tonight, then?” 

“Ah, nothing much,” Shane says. He’d planned on going to bed early, catching up on some of the sleep he’s missed over the last several weeks while they’ve been pushing out holiday content like a train running down a hill. 

“Good. I’ll be over around seven.” 

“Ryan? What?” 

“Never you mind,” Ryan says, with the kind of smile that makes Shane’s stomach flip over because it means Ryan’s got an idea and in Shane’s experience that means it’ll either be the most fun he’s had in years or terrifying.

Ryan refuses to divulge any more information, and leaves work on time, gripping Shane’s shoulder briefly when he stands to go. Shane doesn’t think about the warm touch of Ryan’s hand while he’s packing up his own things, nor while Brittney is pressing a full plate of cookies into his hands as he’s trying to leave.

-:-

Ryan arrives almost exactly on time. This is enough to make Shane wary in and of itself, but the fact that he’s calling from the parking lot only adds to Shane’s trepidation. Dutifully, he shoves his feet into a pair of shoes by the door and goes down to help Ryan out with whatever Ryan needs help with. 

It turns out that it’s a bunch of boxes, of varying different sizes, along with several large shopping bags. 

“What’s all this?” Shane asks, once they’ve finished carrying it all up to his apartment. Ryan doesn’t answer, but he pushes one of the taller boxes towards Shane with his foot. 

Shane looks over at Ryan. “We said no presents, Ry. I don’t have anything for you—”

“Shut up and open the box, Shane.”

Shane opens the box. 

Inside, nestled into the cardboard, is a profusion of greenery. Shane looks up, finding Ryan pulling out a box of ornaments from a shopping bag. There are several strings of lights already pulled out beside his feet. For a long moment, Shane just looks from the contents of the box to the things Ryan keeps pulling out of the various bags. Obi pads over to sniff the box, rubbing his nose along the edge, tail tick-tocking. 

“I didn’t know what kinds of things you normally decorate with, so I got some of everything,” Ryan is saying. Shane watches his hands, because looking at Ryan’s face will probably make Shane do something stupid, like reach out to give him a hug. “If you can get the tree standing, we can do the lights together, and then I guess the ornaments?” 

Ryan’s voice trails off. It takes a beat before Shane realises that means he’s been caught catching flies with his open mouth. 

“Shane?” Ryan asks, shifting forward on the couch. Shane makes himself meet Ryan’s gaze, finds only gentleness in his friend’s eyes and has to look away before he does something even more stupid than hug him. “Hey, yo, Shane? You okay?” 

“Shit,” Shane says. Is his voice that noticeably watery? He hopes not. “Sorry. I just—what’s this for?” 

“You said you had the Christmas blues,” Ryan says, looking down at the ornament he’s turning over in his hands. “And I remembered how you had decided you weren’t going home for the holidays this year, so I thought—I thought that if you weren’t going to have Christmas, then I could—I could bring it to you.” Ryan shoves a hand through his hair and laughs, self-deprecating. “I know it’s dumb, I should’ve asked first.” He spreads his hands in apology, a bright red ornament resting in his palm. “Look at me, showing up with all this shit you’ll have to store and whatever. I’m sorry. I shoulda—” 

“Oh, Ryan,” Shane says. He’s moving before he can think the better of it, knocking the box of baubles out of Ryan’s hands and catching Ryan up in a hug. Ryan makes a sound when Shane squeezes him, a little like the wheeze of a balloon being emptied, but then his arms come up around Shane, and he hugs back just as hard.

Shane buries his face in Ryan’s neck, inhaling the warm scent of him, and giving himself permission to hold on and not shorten this hug out of a necessity of keeping up appearances. One of Ryan’s hands comes up to curl around the back of Shane’s neck, the other a warm weight in the centre of Shane’s back. Shane feels like he might fly apart at the seams if Ryan lets go.

Obi interrupts them by batting a bauble across the floor, and chasing after it. Shane shifts back, still wanting to linger in the space of Ryan’s arms, but knowing he needs to gather himself back together so they can decorate the tree. Ryan does him the favour of not mentioning the hitch in his breathing or commenting on how long the hug had lasted. Instead, he goes back to unboxing a set of lights, giving Shane the moment he needs. 

“Okay,” Shane says, once he’s reasonably sure he can trust himself again. “I think the tree should go by the patio door.” 

-:-

An hour later, Ryan hands Shane the star, and steps back while Shane puts it on the topmost branch of the tree. Shane lets his arm drop, and takes a few steps back to admire the tree himself. It’s pretty, and the lights are warm and inviting. Shane can almost imagine the piney scent of a real tree, even though this one isn’t.

“Wait,” Ryan says, snapping his fingers. “I know what we need.” 

Ryan slips into the kitchen, turning off the lights. Shane follows his lead, and turns off the table lamp in the living room as well as the overhead light in the hallway. Soon enough, the only lights are those of the tree, multi-coloured and cheerful.

“We did good,” Ryan says, when he comes back into the room. Obi sprawls under the tree, looking up at the lights. 

“You did good,” Shane argues. “I was just going to go to bed and sleep and try not to think about being alone tomorrow, and here you are, showing up like some kind of reverse Grinch.” Shane breathes in on a shaky laugh. “Jesus.” 

“You’re welcome,” Ryan says, bumping his shoulder against Shane’s. 

“Thanks,” Shane says, belatedly. “Thank you. I really mean it.” 

“Nothin’ doing,” Ryan replies, but when Shane looks over at him, he’s smiling, contented. 

They look at the tree together for a while, standing in Shane’s dark living room. Even with just a tree, the room feels homier; warmer, more like a place he can call home, instead of just a place he lives. His apartment’s been home for years, but sometimes it doesn’t really feel like it. Something about having a Christmas tree in the corner chases all the remaining transitory feelings out of the room. Simultaneously, it makes him feel like the other place he calls home is not so far away. It helps that Ryan’s standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and Shane’s not alone.

Eventually, Shane remembers his manners. “D’you—d’you want a drink or something? I’ve got beer? We could watch a movie?”

“Yeah, okay, something Christmas-y though,” Ryan says. He sits on Shane’s couch, pushing through the empty boxes and their wrappings on the coffee table to find the TV remote. “I’ll pick the movie. Go make popcorn.” 

-:-

They watch the original animated The Grinch, then the Charlie Brown Christmas special, and eat a bowl of popcorn each. It’s cozy with a childhood memory on the TV and Ryan beside him on the couch, sitting close enough that Ryan’s knee presses against Shane’s thigh, the patch of warmth spreading from there all the way out to all of Shane’s extremities. 

When the show is over, Ryan looks down at his watch. “Oh,” he says. “It’s midnight.” 

Shane sets his empty beer bottle down on the table in front of them and turns to look at Ryan. Ryan’s looking back, face open, the lights from the tree reflected in his eyes. Shane’s gaze drifts down to Ryan’s mouth, lips wet from the last sip of his beer, and then back up to his eyes. Ryan swallows, and Shane’s so close he can hear the click of his throat. 

“Merry Christmas,” Ryan says, voice hushed. His hand lands on Shane’s thigh, high enough that Shane feels a zing along his nerves.

Shane swallows down the butterflies climbing up the back of his throat. “Merry Christmas, Ryan,” he says, and before he can talk himself out of it, he leans in. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat about my fic on [tumblr](http://sequencefairy.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/warpspeed_chic).


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